


Never Will Be

by murdermewithbooks



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Family Loss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Pining, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdermewithbooks/pseuds/murdermewithbooks
Summary: At first, it was just sex—a way for the two of you to de-stress and unwind after a particularly rough assignment, with no strings or labels attached by any means. After all, you’re both consenting adults mature enough to know that this job doesn’t leave much room for finding true love, or any kind of romantic connections really.....But when you discovered you were pregnant with your partner’s child, your entire world came crashing down, leaving you more anxious and confused than you’ve ever been.
Relationships: Agent Whiskey & Reader, Agent Whiskey & You, Agent Whiskey/Reader, Agent Whiskey/You, Jack Daniels & You, Jack Daniels/reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey/You, Whiskey & You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Never Will Be

**Author's Note:**

> this is an angsty [unplanned/hidden] pregnancy fic; AU obvi because Whiskey is alive, but also Roxie because I’m still bitter about her death 😂 and we’ll just assume Statesman and Kingsman are like sister agencies? so they work together often. ok? ok, cool. and as always, any comments or feedback are always welcome. thanks for reading! 💜

“Great work on the Desoto case, you two. We got our man—and with minimal casualties to boot,” Champ congratulates you and your partner, Jack “Whiskey” Daniels on a job well done. The operation had run as smoothly as it could have—better, in fact. But that was no surprise. You and Jack _were_ the best team in all Statesmen sectors combined. **  
**

“Why don’t the two of you take the next few days off, then report back here Monday morning. We’ve got some heavy debriefing to do, not to mention prepping you for your next assignment.” Champ rises from his chair, you and Jack doing the same. “Thank you, sir. We’ll do that,” Jack promises and Champ gives him an appreciative pat on the shoulder before turning to you and extending his hand.

“And Agent Kahlúa, fine job gettin’ that information from the head honcho. That’s why you’re one of our best agents,” he gives your hand a firm shake, covering it with his other hand for a moment before releasing it. 

Jack aims a smirk in your direction, something akin to admiration illuminating his eyes. The butterflies in your stomach take flight and you tear your gaze away from him, forcing those long-since-realized feelings aside. You clear your throat and ask Champ, “Actually, sir, I wanted to talk to you about something—alone—if you have the time.”

You can feel Jack’s curious eyes staring at your profile but you keep your eyes forward, your jaw clenching. Heat creeps its way up your neck the longer you resist meeting his gaze, but you won’t risk a glance at the man who’s wedged himself into your heart over the past couple of years. 

And into your bed these past couple months.

At first, it was just sex—a way for the two of you to de-stress and unwind after a particularly rough assignment, with no strings or labels attached by any means. After all, you’re both consenting adults mature enough to know that this job doesn’t leave much room for finding true love, or any kind of romantic connections really. 

And as far as family goes…well, there’s a reason you were recruited for Statesman in the first place. Having no familial ties whatsoever made you the perfect candidate for the job, and you did the job well. 

But when you discovered you were pregnant with your partner’s child, your entire world came crashing down, leaving you more anxious and confused than you’ve ever been. 

“Of course. Whiskey, you mind givin’ us a minute,” Champ’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you spare a glance at your partner as you try aiming a reassuring smile his way. He merely nods and holds your stare a moment longer before turning and leaving Champ’s office. 

Once the door closes behind him, Champ walks over to the minibar on the other side of the room, offering you a drink, which you decline a bit too urgently. He furrows his brow in suspicion but shrugs it off as he serves himself a glass of bourbon. 

“What’s on your mind, Kahlúa? Everything alright?” he asks before taking a drink, his eyes studying you over the rim of the glass. You keep your expression neutral and relax your shoulders as best you can, despite the tension that pulls there.

“Sir, I’d like to…request a transfer to the Kingsman sector,” your words hang in the air as Champ quirks an eyebrow and sets his drink down on the bar. “What’s the reason behind this request, agent? Did something happen between you and your partner?” he watches you carefully and you meet his gaze head-on, not wanting to give anything away. 

But then your vision starts to blur with tears you have no control over and you turn away, trying to subtly wipe the moisture from your cheeks. “I–” you start, but your voice betrays you. When you feel a hand on your shoulder, a sob lodges itself in your throat and you know you’re moments away from breaking.

“What is it, (y/n)?” Champ asks quietly, his voice filled with concern. You take a deep breath and turn to face the man who’s been like a father to you ever since you joined Statesman all those years ago. “I’m…pregnant.”

Warm tears find their way down your cheeks and Champ’s expression turns into one of empathy and compassion. “It’s Jack’s, isn’t it?” he asks, though you can tell by the certainty in his eyes that he already knows the answer.

You nod anyway and sniffle before responding, “I just found out this morning, when we got back. I’m not sure how far along I am but…sir, I need to be transferred. I can’t be around Jack right now, I don’t even know if I want to keep it or what will happen if I _do_ keep it. I just–” you release a shuddering breath before continuing, “I need time to think about what I’m going to do and I can’t do that when I’m around him.” 

He considers your words for a few long seconds before nodding once to himself and walking to the other side of his desk where he picks up his tablet and looks over to you once more, “You’re sure this is what you want.” Not a question but a statement, confirming your request for transfer.

“Yes, sir, this is what I want,” you hold your head up high despite wanting nothing more than to collapse to the floor and let your tears fall freely. A hint of sadness crosses his features but he nods in agreement and types something on the tablet, saying, “Consider it done then. Ginger will have all the info you need as soon as you leave here.”

Swallowing hard, you manage a nod in response and go to shake his hand. He takes it without hesitation and holds on a moment longer as he says, “I respect your decision, Agent Kahlúa. I can’t change your mind and I wouldn’t dare try. But know that you will be missed. If or whenever you wish to return here to Statesman, you will always be welcome.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” Relief washes over you, but as you leave Champ’s office, you can’t help feeling like you’re leaving a piece of you behind. 

And Jack— _god_ , just thinking about him drives a sharp pang of guilt through your chest. You know he’ll never forgive you for leaving, that is, if he ever finds out the reason behind it. But as much as it pains you to admit, you know he’ll forget you soon enough.

It’s only a matter of time before he moves on to the next woman that finds herself in his bed. 

~~~

It isn’t until a few hours after your meeting with Champ that Whiskey starts to feel uneasy. When you had asked to speak alone with the boss, he immediately grew curious as to what the two of you had to discuss without him being present. But he chalked it up to the knee-jerk—albeit irrational—response he’s had to protect you since day one.

If there was ever something wrong or—heaven forbid—something _he_ did to make you upset or uncomfortable, then he wouldn’t rest until the issue was dealt with and brought to justice. But in that moment, all he could do was follow Champ’s orders and leave the two of you to speak alone, no matter how many alarms started ringing in the back of his mind.

He eventually came to terms with the fact that if it was anything of grave concern, you wouldn’t hesitate to come to him for help—at least he hoped. 

But when you don’t show up for his and your celebratory dinner that night, as has been tradition ever since the two of you completed your first mission together, he grows restless. Leaving a generous tip despite not having actually eaten anything, he stalks out of the high-end restaurant in search of the Bronco and drives back to Statesman HQ.

By the time he jumps out of his car, his heart is racing a mile a minute. He doesn’t know what to think or what to expect when he sees you, but miscommunication has never been an issue between the two of you. 

And sure, maybe the lines got a little blurred when y’all started sleeping together some months ago. But he’d always made it clear that it was just sex and nothing more—it couldn’t be, not without putting your jobs and ultimately your lives at risk. 

Ever since he lost his wife and unborn child all those years ago, he swore to never care about anyone so deeply again. Becoming so familiar with tragedy and loss left him cold, empty. Whatever small piece of him that remained alive and breathing was smothered by short, meaningless hookups with women whose names he hardly cared to remember. 

But he’d be a fool to deny the feelings that being with you has stirred to life within him. The warmth that floods his chest whenever you smile and the way your touch makes his body hum with desire, even hours after you’ve left his bed. 

His head is swimming with so many thoughts he doesn’t realize he’s reached Champ’s office until his knuckles meet wood and the door is being swung open by the man himself. “Agent Whiskey, I thought I told you and Agent Kahlúa to take some time off–”

Jack interrupts him as he strides into the office space and begins pacing, “I think somethin’s happened to her, sir. We were supposed to have dinner and she never showed up. She isn’t answerin’ any of my calls or texts either, which is strange because _she’s_ the one always yellin’ at _me_ for not answerin’ and–”

“Son, you need to cool your jets. She’s on an assignment, alright? It was sudden and she left a couple of hours ago.” Champ levels with him and rests a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder as he watches him carefully. He doesn’t give anything away, but Jack can sense that he’s hiding something.

“For how long? Why wasn’t I notified? She _is_ my partner, after all,” Jack crosses his arms over his slightly puffed out chest a show of authority. Of course, Champ doesn’t buy into his little power move and simply rolls his eyes as he takes a step back. 

“I already told you, it was sudden and she had to leave right then. And I don’t know for how long, but until she returns, Agent Tequila will be your partner.” Jack opens his mouth to protest but Champ doesn’t let him get a word in as he says with a tone of finality, “Now, I’ve got some work to finish up here. Go on home and get some rest.”

Some minutes later, Jack is exiting through the front doors of Statesmen HQ, that sickening sense of loss settling in the pit of his stomach.

He feels somewhat foolish for worrying about you so much. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and after years of working with you in the field—and you saving his life more times than he cares to admit—he’d be the first to attest to your strength and intelligence. 

But that still doesn’t change the fact that he never got the chance to tell you how he felt before you left. And with the dangers of the job, he doesn’t know if he ever will.

~~~

**_6 months later_ **

When you first discovered you were pregnant you thought the morning sickness would be the worst part, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. The further along you got in your pregnancy, you found the hardest thing to adjust to was the lack of sleep. With the growing swell of your belly, no position seemed to provide you comfort.

And the back pain _alone_ was enough to make you want to cry some days, but the breathing exercises your doctor at Kingsman taught you seemed to be helping. If only you could get one night of decent rest, maybe you wouldn’t be so grumpy and short-tempered with the other agents at HQ.

They had welcomed you with open arms when you first arrived all those months ago, especially Roxie, who quickly became something akin to the little sister you never had. And though you haven’t been out on field assignments—potentially dangerous ones anyway—since you’ve been at Kingsman, you know she wouldn’t hesitate to have your back in any life-threatening situation.

She even accompanied you on your shopping trips for baby supplies and helped set up the nursery in your small townhome. Just today, the two of you had been shopping for a stroller when she got called away on an emergency assignment, leaving you to walk home alone. 

Truthfully, you don’t mind the silence while enjoying the sites of downtown London. But without Roxie or _someone_ there to distract you, your thoughts always travel to the same place—the same person.

_Jack_. You haven’t seen or heard from him since you left Statesman nearly six months ago, but he’s always on your mind. Every time the baby kicks your eyes grow misty with joy, along with an immense sadness that Jack isn’t there to witness it. 

You constantly have to remind yourself that it was _your_ decision to not tell him he was going to be a father, and that it was for the best for several different reasons. You more than anyone know the kind of man he is, the one who has a different woman in his bed every other night—maybe even while the two of you were sleeping together, the thought of which always makes your chest ache. Not to mention the life-threatening situations his and your job is constantly putting him in. If something were to happen to him because he was trying to protect you and your child, you’d never forgive yourself. 

But the main reason you thought it best not to tell him about your pregnancy was because of the death of his wife and their unborn child. That kind of tragedy changes a person and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how deeply that loss affected him. If he knew the truth, you don’t know what it would do to him—what kind of trauma it would resurrect within him and how he would react. You didn’t have it in your heart to cause him that type of pain, as much as it killed you to go through this alone.

Your hand absentmindedly rubs your belly and your head pounds from unshed tears as you turn onto your street. The soles of your feet ache as you walk up the few steps to your home. You place the key in the lock and turn the knob, but just before you step inside, a familiar voice calls your name. You turn slowly, your heart pounding against your rib cage when your eyes connect with dark ones that widen when your stomach comes into view.

“Jack?”

~~~

_Six months. He hasn’t seen or heard from you in_ six fucking months _. The only way he knows you’re even alive is because he constantly badgers Champ with questions,_ is she alright? how’s her assignment coming along? any updates? _Honestly, he’s surprised the boss still allows him into his office after months of nagging him for answers._

_At first, he felt embarrassed about asking so many questions like he was a child asking his parents “Are we there yet?” But it was all he could do to keep himself from being consumed by the emptiness your departure left in him._

_He took on assignment after assignment, never once stopping to take a few days off for fear of sinking to the bottom of the nearest liquor bottle he could find. When there were no jobs to fill his time, he’d go down to the casino and gamble away half his paycheck, occasionally bringing some winnings home with him—along with a strange woman to warm his bed for the night._

_But even those few times he_ did _bring someone home, he never let them stay longer than was necessary to give him a quick release. He knew it was a dick move but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He just felt…numb._

_Then one day he’s walking by Ginger’s office when he hears her say your name. He assumes she’s speaking with you over the phone because she says “I’m so glad you called. Please keep me posted, and take care of yourself, OK?”_

_He bursts through the door, hoping to catch her before she ends the call, but he’s too late. “Jack, you can’t just come barging in like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she rebukes, placing a hand over her chest. He deflates upon missing the opportunity to hear your voice after months of no contact, but then he comes to a sudden realization. “You know where she is,” he means for it to be a question but it comes out as more of an accusation._

_Ginger looks away, gnawing on her bottom lip as she goes to turn her chair back around to face her desk. But Jack catches it on a swivel and places his hands on either side of the chair, effectively boxing her in as he levels his stare with hers. “Tell me where I can find her, please, Ginger. I–I just need to know she’s okay._ See _that she’s okay, for myself.”_

_He doesn’t know if it’s the desperate look on his face or the way his voice cracks, but Ginger eventually nods her head saying, “OK, I'll—I’ll tell you where she is, but you have to_ promise _me you won’t tell Champ I helped you. He made me swear to keep my mouth shut with her whereabouts.” It’s Jack’s turn to nod in agreement, albeit somewhat impatiently as he steps back to let Ginger write down an address on a piece of paper._

_“She’s been in London this whole time?” he asks with a tone of incredulity. He’s dumbfounded at the fact that he never once considered you were with the Kingsman sector all these months_

_It must be true what they say—love makes you stupid._

_And it’s with that realization that he thanks Ginger with a kiss on the cheek and hauls ass out of Statesman HQ to go find you and tell you exactly how he feels—how he’s felt for some time now—and bring you home._

As eager as he was to get here and see you, nothing could prepare him for the sight before him. You, as beautiful as the last time he laid eyes on you, but also _pregnant_ —and pretty far along, judging by the size of your protruding belly.

“Jack?” you say with a quiet gasp, your expression morphing into one of complete shock, much like the look that must be displaying on his features as well. 

“You’re…pregnant? Is that why—is it _mine_?” he rasps as he slowly walks up the steps, his gaze falling to your hand resting on the roundness of your stomach. You quickly scan the immediate area, probably in search of any prying eyes and ears, before motioning for him to follow you inside.

He does, though he barely registers his surroundings, his eyes never leaving the back of your head as you guide him into what must be the living room. You place your bags onto the countertop nearest you but keep your back to him as you place your hands on the tiled surface, taking a deep breath.

“Is it mine?” he asks again, his voice stronger than before as he remains frozen in the middle of the room. The blood rushing in his ears is almost nauseating but he squashes it down, barely breathing when you turn to face him with red-rimmed eyes.

“No.”

And with that one word, his heart grows cold, shattering slowly like a block of ice under your ice-pick of a voice.

~~~

“No,” you state in a voice that sounds nothing like your own, your throat constricting from the tears you’re trying to hold back. You can’t tell him the truth, despite the voice screaming in the back of your mind to rush over to him and tell him everything—that the baby _is_ his and that you love him with every part of your being.

But none of that truth comes out. Instead, you hammer the nail even deeper into the coffin containing your lie, “It was someone I had a fling with during one of our missions. I don’t even remember his name, just that it was… _really_ good.” Even as the words fall from your lips, you feel your tongue burning with regret.

His hands ball into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching as he looks away from you. “Is that right?” he questions with a tone of annoyance. No, not annoyance— _anger_.

You answer with an affirmative, “Mhm,” your voice involuntarily going up an octave and you freeze, hoping he didn’t notice your tell. But when his head snaps back in your direction, you know you’ve given yourself away. “You’re lying,” he says in a low voice that makes you shiver.

He takes measured steps toward you and you shake your head, both at his accusation and his approaching you. “So you’re tellin’ me that while the two of us–” he motions between you as he comes to stand toe to toe with you “–were fucking, you were _also_ fucking other people.” He crosses his arms over his chest and you lift your chin in defiance, “Like you weren’t?” 

His brow twitches in confusion and with a subtle shake of his head, he quietly admits, “No.” That one word has your mouth falling open in disbelief, but you quickly clam it shut, placing a hand on his chest to shove him away from you. He barely budges as he catches your wrist and holds your hand against his chest.

Whispering your name, he asks again, “Is it mine?” The expression on his face is one of confusion and desperation, along with something you can’t quite put a name to. His eyes scan your face for the answers he seeks, ones you’re not sure you can hold back much longer.

Your bottom lip trembles, your breaths stuttering as your gaze falls to the floor in defeat. “Yes,” you whisper while screwing your eyes shut, waiting for him to reprimand you for keeping the truth from him. But then you feel warm fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet his misty eyes.

Before you realize what he’s doing, his lips are on yours in a kiss so delicate yet heavy all at the same time. The two of you are breathless by the time he pulls back, still holding your chin between his fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you—leave me?”

His words make your heart clench with regret and the vulnerability in his eyes makes your own well with tears that quickly spill onto your cheeks. “I couldn’t do that to you, Jack. I couldn’t place this burden on your shoulders, especially not after everything that happened before, with your…” you trail off, a strangled sob catching in your throat.

He brushes away the moisture on your cheeks, but remains silent as you continue, “I didn’t want you to wake up every day with the reminder of your loss lying next to you. I know how much they meant to you, I just–” you force yourself to look in his eyes as you finally admit your biggest fear of all, “I didn’t want to see the look of disappointment in your eyes because…because _I’m not her_. And I never will be.”

You bite your lip to keep more tears from falling but it’s no use, especially with your hormones being so out of control. A few long moments pass before Jack responds, and you’re glad he has his hands on your waist to hold you steady, otherwise his words may have brought you crashing to the floor.

“Darlin’, I need you to understand one thing. I loved my wife and our baby boy more than anything on God’s green earth and it damn near broke me when they…when they died. I was in a dark place for a long time and I never thought I’d leave it for as long as I lived…But then I met you and you showed me what it was like to be alive again. I don’t believe I ever properly thanked you for that.”

With a small smile, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he continues to turn your world on its axis, “You are not a burden in my life, sweetheart. You’re _the only_ person I wanna wake up next to for the rest of my days. And the only regret I have is not being here for you all this time our baby has been growing inside you. But I will _never_ regret loving you, alright?”

The lump in your throat makes it hard for you to swallow but you somehow manage to ask, “You…you love me?” He nods as he leans in and presses another kiss to your lips before whispering by your ear, “I can show you just how much if _you’d_ be so kind as to show _me_ where your bedroom is.”

Your cheeks grow warm and when he flashes that signature smirk of his, the baby kicks from the excitement rising within you. A gasp falls from your lips and Jack’s grip tightens on your waist as the worry line in his forehead deepens, “What is it? Are you hurt?” You quickly shake your head and reach for his hand, placing it on your belly right where the baby had kicked. His brows knit together in confusion until another kick presses against your skin, and the image of joy that illuminates his features is one you’ll never forget. 

He releases a laugh that’s borderline giddy when another kick meets his hand and you can’t suppress the laugh that escapes you as well. Bringing your hand to his cheek, your thumb strokes along the smile lines by his eyes as you say, “I love you, Jack.” 

His face instantly softens and he turns to kiss your palm for a long moment, the bristles of his mustache tickling your skin. “I love you too, sweetheart, more than anything.”


End file.
